Watching over you
by leakybiro
Summary: He watches her, standing alone in the evening sun, leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs to the Trattoria. He knows it’s a risk but she is too beautiful not to chance it. After all eighteen months is a long time not to see someone you love...
1. A study in secret Geoff's POV

_Ok, so this isn't the sequel I promised, direct all complaints Gene's Gilly. It's all her fault for saying that she didn't think we'd seen the last of Geoff 'the creepy weirdo' Potter. My hope is that this little story will bridge on to the final part, but then I'm done with the pervy freak._

_I will eventually write that other thing that I promise to write next, no honest really will! Look I told you people not to hold your breath; I just knew that inspiration would dictate otherwise. Besides, have you seen the weather, you can hardly call that 'Summer' so until I get some proper sun I don't have to write or post a bean!_

_Anyway, this is a continuation of my story 'Nobody loves you the way I do' so probably best to read that first if you haven't (if you have then thanks!) otherwise this may make very little sense._

_A very big thank you to Bronze Cortina for her tireless efforts as my loyal Beta, m'dear I don't think I'd get anything posted without you. Also a big thank you to Gene's Gilly for her inspiration and knowledge of grammar , I owe you one mate, I thought we had seen the last of him!_

_Alas the concept of Ashes to Ashes isn't mine and neither are the characters. Nor can I take any credit for the poem in chapter one 'Music, when Soft Voices die' by Percy Bysshe Shelly._

_Reviews and constructive criticism greatly received! After all they are the internet version of 'a hug in a mug' (gotta love those crazy blue arms)!_

_Cheers, Leakybiro!_

He is standing on the other side of the road, just watching her, on a Friday evening at the height of summer. He knows it's a risk to be there, but she is too beautiful not to chance it, even for just a moment of observation from afar. Greedily he drinks in everything about her, unable to ration himself in his study.

She is standing alone, leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs to the Trattoria she likes to frequent. Dressed simply in the prettiest corn blue summer dress, a soft white cardigan is draped over her shoulders. A picnic basket and rug rests by her feet, which are clad in delicate summer sandals. Her face is tilted to the sky and her hair is gently ruffled by the cool breeze. He notices subtle differences about her since the last time he saw her. Eighteen months is a long time not to see someone, particularly when you love them as much as he loves her. Her hair is longer and blonder; the curls have become softer and looser. Her face is relaxed and open. To him she looks like a beautiful summer rose blossoming and the way she stands bathed in sun reminding him of a Grecian Nymph playing at the waters edge.

He thinks back to the last time they were as close as this, and how it had ended so badly, with them at loggerheads thanks to her bastard DCI. He hadn't understood why then, still didn't understand now. Hadn't he shown her only love and devotion? The look on her face the last time they'd locked eyes felt like a knife in his heart, the memory of her expression seared into his soul. She had stood there, her skin as pale as her leather jacket, eyes red rimmed and ringed by the dark circles of many sleepless nights. Her features had remained stoic through out the entire trial, the only time she showed that he'd had any effect on her was when she was in the witness box giving her testimony. Sobs had racked her body as she told of her shattered life and the terror she had felt at his mercy; he recalled how he had revelled in every detail of the way she described his presence as infecting her life. He'd luxuriated in the angry and fiery words she had used, some relationships, just like his and Alex's, were all passion and sadism. Memories of that day in Court was the only thing that kept him warm on those long cold lonely nights in prison, the thoughts that he had an affect on her the same way as she had affect on him.

Her boss had almost been in direct contempt of court, his behaviour bordering on psychotic as he shouted at the defence to leave Alex alone. At him to stop being such a twisted sick bastard and enjoying her agony. The joy had been short lived though as he remembered how it had felt like a punch to the gut as he watched that bastard boss of hers hold her so close as the verdict was read out and then lead her out of the court room, his fingers intimately entwined with hers.

Finally he brings himself to look at her left hand. Oh the blessed relief at its nakedness lifts his heart; maybe she is alone after all and not waiting for him but waiting for someone else... dare he think it might be him?

His observations are interrupted with the squeal of brakes and he sees the bastards Red Quattro - he can't bring himself to say his name - pull up in front of her. He sees him get out and his insides writhe with vitriolic anger as he walks towards her.

Gene is late and still dressed in his work suit, although he's discarded the jacket; the top two buttons of his shirt are undone and his tie hangs loose. He tries to explain to Alex but she's not fooled by his excuses, so he just apologises, handing her a bouquet of flowers. Alex smiles at him, shaking her head with a look of amused exasperation before Gene sweeps her up into his arms and kisses her. When their kiss breaks he leans in and whispers in her ear, she laughs and playfully hits him in the chest. He grabs her by the hand and picks up the picnic basket, pulling them both to the car with a sense of rushed excitement.

As he watches the scene unfold before him he remembers, he murmurs:

Music, when soft voices die,  
Vibrates in the memory,  
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,  
Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,  
Are heaped for the beloved's bed;  
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,  
Love itself shall slumber on.

He wonders if she is as happy as she seems - the hunted look has gone from her face and her eyes dance with a sparkle but without doubt she has to have missed him. Surely her happiness isn't because of his absence; it must have been such torture for her as it was for him. Perhaps she is happy because now he is free, she can be with him and he with her; they can be together, for ever.

There is only one dark cloud on the horizon; she is still with him, that bastard, DCI Gene Hunt. As he watches them embrace he feels a pain stab in his chest, he just wishes she was less of a public slag. It was hardly appropriate to grope a superior like that in public, whether he was your lover or not. The thought of him in her bed, taking his own rightful place next to her makes him sick to the pit of his stomach. She can't love him – no, it is merely a relationship of convenience of course; she is using him to get ahead in the game. Oh, what a clever girl his Alex is.

The one thing he can't fathom though is why she rejected him in private; it's one thing to do it in public to keep up the pretence, but why do it when they were alone, why? After all, hadn't he shown her only adoration and devotion? Why did she reject him? Why couldn't she just love him, as he loved her? Why? Why? Why? He had felt so cheated it made it him feel sick with anger when they ended up in court. But he hadn't let their love be sullied by the sterile court proceedings and he never stopped loving her, not once.

The prison beatings he endured were merely the price of loving such an angel. If they were his cross to bear then, like all those martyrs before him, he would nobly accept his flagellation for her. Whilst imprisoned he could no longer watch over her like her seraph or worship at the altar of her, walk among her things, stroke where she lay at night or place his lips on her clothes where they touched her most intimately. Instead he created a tome devoted solely to her and after each time it was destroyed he would go back to the prison library and painstakingly rebuild it. Reverently transcribing every article, like a medieval Monk illuminating a biblical scripture. His scrapbook became his bible, charting her successes, her commendations and her bravery.

He becomes aware of eyes on him as he still stands there, the sound of the engine long gone and her with it. He looks around and sees them, the band of people who accompanied her on that fateful day. The beginning of 479 long desolate days without her. It's only the girl that has seen him but she is staring intently and tugging on the arm of the young idiot. While the girl turns to her companions, the idiot and 'mini Guv' as he like to call them, he feels it's time to beat a retreat and slips away down the street. While she turns to point him out, he wonders where she has gone tonight, what she is doing, as tonight is Alex Drake's birthday. Will the presents she gets tonight be as special as those he plans for her?

When Shaz, Chris and Ray look back to the spot where Geoff Potter had stood just moments before the space is empty.


	2. In our bed Gene's POV

Huge thank you to Rusholm Ruffian for her last minute beta skills and encouragement! Also thank you to everyone who's reviewed.

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I'm lying here watching you sleep in our bed. You know I could do this for hours, just knowing you're naked under the covers. I'm the only one who gets to see you, be with you like this; you're mine and mine alone and that makes me feel like the luckiest man alive. I have no idea if you know that I watch you while you sleep but I can't help it. I love the way the light from outside bathes you in a soft glow, throwing you in shadowed relief and those little sleepy sighs and murmurs you make make me smile.

I feel tired but I don't want to go to sleep just yet. I'm not surprised you're asleep though. In bed tonight we were passionately voracious, I don't think there hasn't been a moment that you've been out of my reach since we made it to the bed - or before it come to think of it. Over and over and over again I've ripped my name from your lips, and you've done the same to me. Maybe it should be your birthday every night. Not that we to have make love every night mind, I'm just as happy to lie here like this, present for each other's dreams.

As I watch you I can't resist it any longer and I have to place a kiss between your shoulder blades; you stir a little but don't wake. It amazes me every day that you're mine. Tonight the looks you got from the other men - the ones you never notice - they were a mixture of lust for you and jealousy of me. I felt on cloud nine with you by my side; I felt like the man that I am.

Tonight when we came back here it had been a perfect evening, too good to last and I was right. Ray spoilt it, I know it wasn't his fault and I would have strung him up by his bollocks if he hadn't told me but why - tonight of all nights - did that little scrote have to reappear? I won't let this on yet, his return. I told Ray that Shaz must have been mistaken and he didn't dare contradict me. Besides that bastard wouldn't risk it so soon, or maybe he would.

It was why I was late; the Super thought it best I knew and that I should be the one to tell you. Maybe I'll tell you tomorrow, I have no idea when or how, so I'll blurt it out at the most inopportune moment just like I always do. You'll be angry I didn't tell you as soon as I knew but he invaded our lives for so long. We'd finally got rid of the memory and I couldn't bring myself to ruin tonight. All I want is one more night; if we have to live through the nightmare again I just want a perfect memory and tonight we got that. It was a perfect evening, a picnic by the sea, holding you close as we swayed to the music and then I had you right there in the Quattro. The nearness of you invading my senses, overwhelming me until I was drunk on you, unable to deny you anything. You were straddling me, crushed and writhing against me, moaning into my mouth how much you wanted me and that was my undoing, the first of many times tonight.

No one knows he was released only 36 hours ago. He's on probation and not allowed to go anywhere near you. Apparently he was released for good behaviour. It'd better stay that way. We never talked about 'it', about him, not after we left the court. I remember how tightly you held on to my hand the whole way through the trial. How I had to prise my hand free when you had to go up and give evidence, what I wouldn't have given to swap places with you, spare you the torture at the hands of the bastard defence. Believe me, it was as hard for me to let go as it was for you. I vaguely remember having to be dragged out the court; god I wanted to hit him, seeing him enjoy your pain was too much. He made me so angry; he still does just thinking about him. I just wanted to hurt him like he hurt you, more even. I know how you hate me using my fists instead of my head but you have to understand you're not the only one he caused pain, seeing you crushed and frightened because of him made me physically ache. I don't know what pisses me off more, that he left you hurt and frightened, that he has the cheek to even think of coming back and looking for you or that if it wasn't for him I might never have ended up here with you, like this.

Some days, especially those early ones, I worried I'd wake up and you'd be gone or it was all a dream. The fear that grips me when I think of what could have happened if you hadn't dropped your warrant card, it's the same fear that I feel every time we walk out of the Station door, the fear I might lose you this time. It makes me so angry and scared that I can't tell which I feel more. I know I can't stop you doing our job and I wouldn't swap you for any other DI (well most days) but it doesn't stop me feeling sick at thoughts of failing to protect you and that makes a cold sweat breaks out across my skin. I tell myself to shut up being so morose and morbid thinking about any of that. I'm here with you now and that's all that matters right now, I don't want to destroy this peace that we've found.

I miss you sometimes, even when we're together in the office, the flat or the Quattro. I want to tell you I miss you but it's stupid because you're right there in front of me, spouting some psycho babble or a crackpot idea. Even right now I miss you, even when tonight we've been as close as humanly possible. I pull you into my arms and bury my face in your neck, breathing in your heavenly scent.

I know I've never said 'I love you' but I do. The only time I can ever get close to telling you is when you're sleeping. I've lost count of the times I've tried to tell you, but when I look in your eyes I get hopelessly lost and forget what I was about to say and when I do remember the moment's gone. Maybe one day I'll be able to but you know that I'd walk through fire for you if you said it would make you happy.

You look so peaceful, it's so different from when you're awake; always seems like you're going a million miles an hour. I wish sometimes when we clash that I couldn't see, hear or smell you - because the look of you all fired up and the way you say my name coupled with your scent confuses me and I forget why we're arguing. But then I change my mind. I'd miss looking at you, looking in your eyes and getting hopelessly lost in them. I'd miss hearing you laugh, sing and call out my name. I'd miss the fragrance that's so uniquely you. I'd miss the taste of you, the taste of your kisses from those beautifully soft and perfect lips. I'd miss the feel of you; your silky skin, the sensation of running my fingers through your hair but most of all I think I'd miss the velvet feel of being inside you, so close to you.

I'm glad you liked your present. Five different jewellery shops I had to go in, hours of agonising over what to get you, by the end of it I was in such a state I'd rather have faced a hundred armed blaggers than go through that again. When I saw it I knew it was the perfect diamond necklace, it sparkles like you when we fight and make up. When you wear it I know I'll always be next to your heart. Thank god it's only you and me here and you're asleep as I think that's the most softest Southern, great, soft, sissy, girlie, nancy, French, bender, Man United supporting poof thing I've ever thought let alone said. God I miss Sam.

Anyway tomorrow is Saturday. I look at the clock and see it's way past midnight so I guess I'm wondering what we'll do today. All I know is that tomorrow or is this morning I'll wake up with you here in my arms, we'll kiss and make slow, lazy love just like we always do.

I take one last look at you, the woman that tonight I held in my arms as we danced, that I made love to; the woman that I hope is as much mine as I am hers, completely. As my eyes roam your beautiful body I realise for the millionth time I want to protect you forever, and before you call me a sexist bastard it's just because I love you and if anything happened to you I'd give up on life. So I kiss you one last time and vow to myself to keep you safe, from everything that's cruel in this harsh world and from that disgusting and depraved bastard. I don't want to but if I have to sleep tonight then I want you close to me so I'll hold you in my arms until the morning. Good night my beautiful love.


	3. Returning the favour Alex’s POV

_Thank you for the reviews, knowing people like what I've written always makes posting the next chapter or story that bit easier. This is the last part for this story but hope to have a little something else I'm co writing with Rusholm Ruffian up soon. Cheers Leakybiro._

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You pull me close and I feel the ghost of a good night kiss on my lips. I listen as your breathing evens out and wait until you're claimed by sleep. I'm awake and thirsty, not surprising with all that champagne we drank tonight. I slip out of your embrace and wrap your shirt around me while I pad to the kitchen. My feet are cold from the tiled floor and getting back into our warm bed is heaven. You've never once shied away from my cold feet and for that I thank you.

Some nights when you're asleep and my mind is still whirling, I lie wrapped in your arms and listen to you snoring and strangely it's the most lulling sound ever.

I know you've been awake watching me while I slept, just as I'm watching you now. It takes my breath away when I look at you: my magnificent Manc Lion.

You've been a little strange tonight, although you tried very hard to hide it from me. You weren't distant, more pensive and - I can't believe this - but the Manc Lion seemed jumpy too. That's why I want to watch you, I know you and if it's something that's troubling or worrying you it'll show on your face while you sleep.

I look at you and to anyone else you'd be the picture of sleeping serenity, which when you're awake is almost unimaginable. I can see the little tells though, the tension around your mouth and eyes that shows something's troubling you. It makes me ache with sadness because tonight has been so perfect. That stretch of deserted beach, you played all my favourite songs on the car stereo and we danced as you held me so close. All night you've stayed by my side, you've barely let go of me and I've not once been out of your sight. I'm not complaining, and the way you made love to me tonight was incredible, you were so possessive and yet never once when I looked in your eyes did I see a hint of ego. It's always amazing when we're together but tonight was something special.

I trace the contours of your face with my lips, a trail of feather light kisses mapping you out. I look at you again and it hasn't eased whatever has troubled you so much.

You were late meeting me tonight, and I don't for a minute believe your excuses. I doubt it was anything to do with the Super's new policy. Nor did it have anything to do with my birthday surprise. And I know that because firstly you've had my present hidden in the top draw of your desk all week. I'm sorry I just couldn't wait; it was just too exquisite not to try on. You nearly caught me putting it back yesterday after I took it in to the ladies so I could really study it in all its sparkling beauty. You were meant to be at the football watching your beloved Manchester City, of all matches you had to choose that one to forget your scarf. Secondly Luigi sorted the food and drink for tonight, thank god after the one and only time you cooked, the fire brigade still flinch every time they see you. Thirdly, the way you held and kissed me tonight, it was if you thought I was a feather that might float away on the breeze at any moment.

Before we came up here tonight Ray stopped you and said something to you. For just a moment the Gene I spent my evening with vanished and it chilled my soul. You looked viciously angry and I just don't know why. I hope to god you don't know what I do.

Geoff Potter was released the other day; I've been dreading this moment from the day he was sentenced. I didn't tell you that I've been keeping note of him as I know you'd hate me giving him a second thought, but I needed to just so I could prepare. I found out he was due for parole a week ago, and you thought I, how did you put it in you inimitable style, oh yes "had the painters in." You bought me chocolates and massaged my feet, it makes me laugh; you have absolutely no idea, do you? What if I had a baby, our baby? You'd probably stand outside the hospital and smoke all of the cigarettes in London followed by drinking London dry.

Thinking of babies makes me miss my Molly, I have no doubt that you'd get on, I could just see you two being as thick as thieves in no time. It's just so sad you'll never get to meet her and I don't know if I ever will get to again either and the thought breaks my heart. I guess it's just a waiting game now, to see if I ever make it back and while this world lasts I'm going to cherish every last moment with you. And if these are my last few moments on earth and I can't be with my baby girl then there's nowhere I'd rather be than right here, with you.

I won't tell you about Potter unless I need to. Not that I like keeping secrets from you, I hate it, but it's for both our benefits. I just don't know if I can trust how you'll react, not after last time. I never thought I would like a protective boyfriend, but I do, I feel safe, I always know if I fall you'll catch me, no matter what. Before you complain I know you hate the term boyfriend but what else should I call you? Partner is too clinical and man-friend sounds like you're gay, and you are most definitely not that, time and again you've made it abundantly clear what I do to you. So I guess we're left with Lover. Still that doesn't quite do you justice, you're so much more to me than that. You, Gene Hunt, are my complicated, infuriating, obstinate, wonderfully handsome and gentle man. And for those reasons and so many more I love you.

Sometimes you look at me, here in the flat or at the office, even in the Quattro and you're always about to say something then stop. I've always wondered what it is, maybe one day you'll tell me.

I think back to tonight and to the Quattro. It was so good that I was almost scared of the way you made me feel. The way you touched me, kissed me, moved inside of me, you left me oh so dazed and breathless. I remember laying my head on your shoulder and the way you held me, I felt so loved and calm that all of a sudden I wasn't scared anymore. I'll never have to be, you're always be there.

I haven't told you that tonight you fulfilled my fantasy. That's one thing you've never told me, your ultimate fantasy and you always let me know what you want; even when I ask you, it's just two words 'You. Now.' Not that I don't have my suspicions, I've seen that doodle you keep hidden in your office between the pages of the 'Police Operational Handbook'. It would only be funnier if you kept it in an actual Bible. Maybe one day I'll let you act it out, it's definitely an idea for your birthday present and I still have that red dress you like so much.

Thinking about all of this won't get me back to sleep and besides you'll wake me in couple of hours so we can start our weekend like we always do; a leisurely hour of making love followed by breakfast in bed.

It's getting harder and harder to fight the urge to sleep. My eyelids feel as if they are made of lead, so I take one last look and steal one last kiss before I curl back in to your protective embrace and let the scent, touch, sound, taste and thought of you lull me to sleep. As I lie here and fall in to the depths of my dreams of you I know that as long as you are here the world outside can't touch us until the morning light finds us.


End file.
